Who Could That Be at This Hour? by Lemony Snicket

Dear Mr. W,

I just finished Who Could That Be at This Hour? by Lemony Snicket. (He’s the author of A Series of Unfortunate Events, which I read, and I loved.) Anyways, this new book is the first of four in a new series called All the Wrong Questions. The genre of this book, and the new series, is mystery.

The main character is a young Lemony Snicket. He is an apprentice to S. Theodora Markson, and together they have been assigned to get back an item that has been stolen from Mrs. Murphy Sallis. The item is a statue of a mythical creature called the Bombinating Beast. Who could have stolen the statue? Will S. Theodora Markson be able to get it back? Will Lemony Snicket learn anything from his chaperone?

These are all the wrong questions.

While Lemony is investigating the crime, he discovers that there may not have been a crime after all. He also meets numerous characters like kid-journalist Moxie Mallahan, sub-librarian Dashiell Qwerty, eavesdropping hotel owner Prosper Lost, a kidnapper named Hangfire, and a mysterious girl in the Clusterous Forest named Ellington Feint. Actually, it’s not fair to call Ellington Feint mysterious since all them are mysterious in some way. Why is Prosper Lost eavesdropping? Who is Hangfire? Why does Dashiell Qwerty open the library so early?

Again, all the wrong questions.

By the end of the book, Lemony Snicket has the mystery of the Bombinating Beast and its rightful owner solved, but more mysteries have appeared. What is the Bombinating Beast for? Will Ellington Feint find her father? Does Lemony Snicket’s secret organization have anything to do with V.F.D.? What is Kit Snicket up to?

I don’t know if these are all the wrong questions or not, but they are definitely questions I want answers to and proof that this book is a mystery.

Sincerely,
Brian Fifth Grader

P.S. I found this book trailer. Does it get me extra credit?

Son by Lois Lowry

Dear Mr. W,

I just finished reading Son by Lois Lowry and wanted to tell you about the setting. There are three main places where Son takes place.

The first setting is the community where Jonas and Gabe live in The Giver. Claire is a birthmother in the community. (The title refers to her son.) She received her assignment at the Ceremony of Twelve about two years before Jonas receives his selection. I thought a lot about The Giver as I read. Everything in the community is the same. People live in plain houses. They all ride bikes. Meals are delivered to every house. To me it would be a very boring existence. A lot of time is spent in a laboratory where fish are raised to be food.

The second setting is a new place, a village on the sea. There is a huge cliff by the village which prevents anyone from leaving the village by land. Most everyone makes a living from the sea. The village is very old and old fashioned. Houses are not much more than huts, there are dirt roads, a harbor with fishing boats, and some fields with sheep and animals. The events that happen here occur after the events of The Giver.

Finally, the last setting is the same village as was in Messenger, but the events happen after the events of Messenger. This village is not advanced like Jonas’ first community, but it is civilized and the people are kind. Much of the time is spent in Jonas’ house. (You learn a lot about him in Son, like he’s married and has kids.) His house is warm and welcoming and happy. Whenever I imagine it I see a fire in the fireplace and smell a pot of something delicious cooking. It feels like a place I’d like to sit and visit for a while.

After reading the book and knowing that events happen in Jonas' community from The Giver and in the village from Messenger, I was surprised that there were no events in the village from Gathering Blue. Looking back it almost seems like it should. There are still many important connections to Gathering Blue, just not the setting.

The book was great, but Lois Lowry has a way of ending books without really ending them, like there’s still much more story to be told. I guess I’ll just have to imagine my own rest of the story.

Sincerely,

Brian 6th Grader

Alvin Ho: Allergic to Girls, School, and Other Scary Things by Lenore Look

Dear Mr. W,

Today while reading Alvin Ho: Allergic to Girls, School, and Other Scary Things by Lenore Look, Alvin used swearing words but they weren’t actual curses. The curses were from Shakespeare. He was at the psychotherapist, but he thought that meant she was crazy, like psycho.

I was wondering what some of the curses mean. He said, “Grow unsightly warts, thou half-faced horn-beast!” and “Bathe thyself, thou reeky reeling-ripe pigeon egg!” and “Sit thee on a spit, then eat my sneakers, thou droning beef-witted nut hook!” What’s a nut hook? What is a half-faced horn-beast? Why is a pigeon egg smelly? Maybe when it says ripe, it means that it is a rotten egg. I’ve smelled one of those before, and it’s not pretty.

I also wondered why his dad took him to get ice cream. I expected him to get punished for speaking that way, but he got ice cream instead. That didn’t seem right. I thought he might get a spanking or something like that. Usually when you speak mean to someone, you get in trouble. At school that happens. When kids talk mean, they get in trouble. I guess his dad knew he had a bad day at the psychotherapist, and dads know that sometimes ice cream can make things better, especially ice cream with your dad.

Sincerely,
Brian 4th Grader

Reading Journals

When I started teaching I knew two things for certain. First, I wanted to read aloud every day. Second, I wanted my students to read every day.

I thought I was pretty smart for that.

I didn’t call it readers’ workshop. There weren’t mini-lessons, at least not officially, and reading conferences were informal conversations between readers rather than intentional conferences focused on a specific topic. Students were expected to write entries in a reading journal, but my expectations were often loose and not clearly defined.

As happens for all teachers over time, the classroom strategies and activities that worked well became more evident, and my instruction become more focused on essential material. Of course, we teachers are constantly tinkering and changing and improving our instruction as we continue to learn more and gain more teaching experience.

What follows is how reading journals currently look in my readers’ workshop. (And quite possibly, something will change next week.)

Independent Reading
Students are expected to always have an independent silent reading book which they use for their reading journal entries. Students choose one of the following topics and write about it within the context of their chosen book. As I tell students, reading lessons should apply to all reading, for all students, not just a specific story. (Note: This list focuses on literary elements. As such, topics pertaining to informational text are absent. Rest assured it is still being taught.)

Journal Topics

• Main & Supporting Characters
• Protagonists & Antagonists
• Character Traits
• Setting (place, time, mood)
• Plot (introduction, conflict, events, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution)
• Theme
• Genre
• Conflict & Resolution
• Making Predictions
• Making Judgments

In the Beginning
As we begin the year, journal entries focus on the question “What are you thinking?” The goal is to get students to pay attention to what they do as readers. Sometimes using our read aloud book, sometimes using my own reading, we discuss, write, and share what we are thinking while we read.

As the Help Readers Love Reading site transition continues, sample journal entries will be posted. Sample journal entries is a format I’ve not seen on children’s literature blogs so I thought it might be a unique change of pace for readers. My goal is to continue to introduce great books to the site’s readers while at the same time compiling examples to use with students.

Transitions

Life is full of transitions. Some are positive, others negative. Some transitions occur in our personal lives while others happen to us professionally. Whenever numerous transitions happen simultaneously, life can get a little … well, to put it simply: busy.

The second half of 2012 has been full of transitions for your humble reader/reviewer/writer/blogger. Thankfully these transitions, both personal and professional, have been of the positive variety. Details aren’t necessary, but a new role and additional responsibilities at school coupled with significant changes at home (again, all positive) have made me, once again simply stated: busy.

I’ve temporarily stopped writing my monthly newspaper column and, considering that the site’s most recent post was on July 23, have taken time away from Help Readers Love Reading as well. That doesn’t mean that I’ve completely stopped writing, however. There was time for an interview with Kirby Larson, and at school, with three readers’ workshop groups, I have written numerous sample reading journal entries as models for students.

Many of these sample journal entries have been about books that would have appeared here on Help Readers Love Reading. So to add to the transitions, I’m going to try one here on the site as well. In the coming days and weeks I plan to post a short outline of how I use reading journals in readers’ workshop followed by sample journal entries that I share with students. Not only will this allow me to continue sharing books here on the blog, but I’ll have my sample journal entries all in one place.

So that’s what’s going to happen … or that’s the plan, anyway. As new posts appear, I’d love to hear your feedback. As always, thanks to everyone for visiting Help Readers Love Reading, and thanks for staying with the site through its unintended temporary shutdown.

Maya Makes a Mess by Rutu Modan

If Maya Makes a Mess was nonfiction, if author Rutu Modan had created an illustrated account of a real Maya’s actual dinner manners, than this book would document the greatest achievement in childhood dinner manners in the history of children, dinner, or manners.

In the opening pages, Maya is seen eating with her hands, standing at the table, slouching, leaning back in her chair, and feeding the dog. And her parents are heard correcting each behavior. “You need manners!” says her father. “What if you were eating dinner with the QUEEN?!”

Yes, indeed. What if?

DING DONG! goes the doorbell, and in walks a court herald. TOO-TOOT! goes his horn before he announces, “Her Majesty the Queen invites Maya to come to a dinner party. Tonight.”

Maya is whisked away to dinner, her father’s last words, “Mind your manners!” echoing in her ears. At dinner she faces choices and troubles that would mystify the best of us. Does she choose to eat the goose livers, snail salad, or ham jelly? Should she wash it down with spinach juice? Which of the 8 forks, 5 knives, 5 spoons, and 4 glasses should she use? Thankfully the gentleman next to her - a Duke, it is later revealed - helps her out. “Eat it the way you’re used to.”

So she does. And everyone notices. Including the queen.

But Maya is not thrown in jail, as she thinks might happen. Instead the queen does something drastic: She talks to Maya. She asks questions. She listens. Most amazingly, she trusts Maya.

In the end the queen makes an announcement. It’s an amazing, Maya-inspired, dinner-eating command that is embraced by every Duke, Princess, Countess, and Duchess in attendance and justifies every ketchup-fingered young dinner-eater around.

The Importance of Thank You Notes

My latest column is mostly not mine. After my brief introduction is an actual thank you letter from my wife's cousin, Mark, to their grandmother ten years ago.

The letter speaks for itself, and honestly, I have nothing more to say. (Except, maybe, thanks for reading.)

My wife’s grandmother recently passed away, and in going through some paperwork, my mother-in-law discovered an envelope, addressed simply to Grandma H., in amongst Grandma’s important documents. The envelope held a thank you letter Grandma received from cousin Mark nearly ten years ago.

The letter illustrates three things. First, thank you letters hold great importance--Grandma kept this one for nearly a decade. Second, never underestimate the importance of a good laugh even during the most trying times. And third, cousin Mark could take my job writing this column.

We enjoyed numerous rereadings last week on family vacation, recalling Mark’s days as a graduate student, and he graciously gave me permission to share the letter, unedited. I hope it brings you some of the same joy it brought Grandma these past ten years.

Dear Grandma,

I thought I’d write you a letter to see how things are going in Wisconsin. Of course, I wish that I had some wonderfully entertaining tales from Florida to share with you, but I’m afraid that would entail using an imagination. Unfortunately, I think that I’ve been in school a sufficiently long time for them to train every bit of imagination out of me. Reality, meanwhile, is far less amusing than wonderfully entertaining tales from a tropical land. In fact, I do believe that a recounting of my exam experience today would more properly fall into the category of “Tragedy in the Swamplands,” and even that makes it sound more interesting than it was.

As of yet, I don’t believe that I’ve properly thanked you for the Christmas money. In the spirit of doing nothing at the right time, let me now, on the 24th of February in the year 2003, thank you for the Christmas check. With part of that money I recently purchased a new seat for my bicycle. It seems that bicycle seat technology has changed in the mere 6 years or so since I bought my bike; my old seat was more or less shaped like a wedge, while this one is designed to “reduce pressure points on soft tissue areas” -- precisely the weight-supporting areas with the wedge seat. Of course, the alternative way of describing the newer design if one was, say, writing to someone other than one’s grandmother, would be to “lessen pain where you don’t want it and consequently decrease the probability of impotency.” So I guess you can either say that at a minimum you saved your grandson significant discomfort, while at most you helped grow the family tree. To be honest, though, the discomfort issue is more relevant for me at the moment.

I suspect that after reading the previous paragraph you may in the future force all your children and grandchildren to sign forms promising to never tell you, much less describe in detail, the purchases that resulted from your Christmas gifts to them. Nevertheless, I figured that such an explanation might be an interesting change from the typical “Hey Grandma, thanks for the dough” sort of thank you.

I hope that you’re doing fabulously well.

With Love,

Mark

Fake Mustache by Tom Angleberger

Simply put, Fake Mustache by Tom Angleberger is a book that grown-ups should be recommending to young readers. As a public service, I offer several suggestions to would be recommenders for doing just that.

First, point out the book’s alternate title. Listed underneath the impressively mustachioed young man on the cover, it reads How Jodie O’Rodeo and Her Wonder Horse (and Some Nerdy Kid) Saved the U.S. Presidential Election from a Mad Genius Criminal Mastermind. Who doesn’t like a colorful cast of characters and high stakes?

Second, you might point out to your targeted young reader that one of the book’s lessons is this: If ever presented with the opportunity to purchase a Heidelberg Handlebar Number Seven fake mustache along with a complimentary year’s supply of spirit gum from the Heidelberg Novelty Company, say no. Evil can lie in wait, even in an impressive mustache.

Third, mention that the story begins in Sven’s Fair Price Store, a place to “buy fake tattoos, fake noses, fake thumbs, fake eyelashes, fake tuxedo shirts, fake books that have secret compartments, fake laughter machines, fake fog makers, fake feet, fake teeth that you wind up, fake teeth that you stick in your mouth, fake gum that snaps people’s fingers, fake dog poop, [and] fake people poop.” (And fake mustaches.)

Fourth, even though not given in the above list of products, one of the story's heroes uses a Nasal Gun enabling him to shoot fake boogers out his nose. And it’s every bit as gross as it should be.

Fifth, it’s by Tom Angleberger, the guy behind The Strange Case of Origami Yoda. You’ve read Origami Yoda, right?

And finally, some reasons for the recommenders themselves. Beyond the absurdity and hilarity in the first four reasons, Fake Mustache contains grown-ups worthy of a Roald Dahl story, the action pace of an Alex Rider adventure, ordinary kids with extraordinary accomplishments, and a sequel-ready ending. Kids will love it.

The Shark King by R. Kikuo Johnson

While searching for her favorite food, opihi (oh-PEE-hay, a delicious sea snail), in a seaside pool, a young woman named Kalei has a run-in with a rogue wave and what appears to be a shark. An ominous black outline complete with jagged teeth is headed right at her as the wave knocks her off the rocks and into the sea. But instead of gnashing teeth, she is grabbed by two strong hands that pull her to safety. Stunned, she can barely utter a thank you as the rescuer warns her that the Shark King does not like visitors.

Kalei and her mysterious rescuer fall in love, marry, and soon a son is on the way. Shortly before the child is born, the husband goes swimming in the sea for hours When he returns, he announces, “I’m making a place for our son at the bottom of the pool.” At the bottom of the pool? Then, the night before the boy is born, he leaves completely, returning to the sea and revealing himself to be the Shark King.

Kalei is left to raise the boy, Nanaue (nah-NOW-way), on her own. But he is different from the other boys and villagers and must stay hidden. Eventually his secret is discovered when the villagers no longer catch any fish. Blaming Nanaue, the villagers chase him to the only place he can find safety - the pool - leaving Kalei alone.

The Shark King is one of Toon Books more difficult books, Level 3 on their Toon Into Reading scale for “Advanced Beginners.” Pronunciations like the ones in this review are included in the text. Readers will enjoy Nanaue’s antics that keep his mother busy, as any young boy's antics will. Readers will especially enjoy drawing conclusions about the mysterious Shark King and Nanaue. As with all graphic novels, the text is limited, leaving readers to use the images to understand the events. Should Nanaue wander farther and farther from home? Is Kalei truly left alone? Will Nanaue be safe in the pool?

The Shark King by R. Kikuo Johnson is another strong addition to the Toon Books library. But with Toon Books, that’s come to be expected with each new release.

Chick and Chickee Play All Day! by Claude Ponti

“Chickie, let’s make masks!” begins Chick in this latest offering from Toon Books. But not just any masks, as young readers quickly find out. Scary masks! Chick and Chickie work diligently - shown expertly in only one panel, heads down, focused on the task - until each uses their grand creation to frighten the other. “BOO!” screams a mask-wearing Chick. “That was me!”

“Oh! That’s funny, Chick!” replies Chickee before returning the favor with a BOO! of her own.

Chick and Chickee move on to playing school with a capital letter A. They discover A’s many talents. A can “Ah!...” when he rests. A can also “AH! HA HA HA HA!” when tickled. When the two friends play catch with A, launching him through the sky, A screams, “Aaaaaaaaaaaa” as he flies. Charge at A with a pin and eraser, and a terrified A hollers, “AH!”

Author Claude Ponti’s ending - “Well, tomorrow we can play with B!” - leaves readers wondering what might happen next and gives grown-ups a great opportunity to discuss exactly that with their young readers.

With Chick and Chickee Play All Day!, Toon Books has added to their small but steadily growing library of graphic novels for younger readers. Toon Books are grouped into Levels 1, 2, and 3, and each book contains easy to understand descriptions of each level inside the back cover including recommended grade levels, lexile, guided reading and reading recovery levels.

But don’t let the educational jargon fool you. These books are not contrived just to fit a category. Toon Books are genuinely fun, kid friendly, and re-re-re-re-readable. There’s something new to discover with every bed time, story time, and reading time, perfect for showing your newest readers the joy books hold.

A Mysterious Magazine

Since this article was originally published in the local newspaper a week ago, people have told me about Erik Estrada, Shaun Cassidy and "Da Doo Ron Ron," and the Jonas Brothers. I suppose when a magazine has been around for nearly fifty years, there are going to be a great variety of generational memories. It's been fun learning about babysitting allowances being saved and walls being covered, and I'd love to hear even more. 

Thanks for reading. and please consider sharing your own Tiger Beat memories.

A Tiger Beat magazine recently turned up in my house. Seriously, they’re still making Tiger Beat. I thought it died with parachute pants, eight-inch bangs, and Baby on Board, but it seems I was mistaken - about Tiger Beat, not the parachute pants.

But what drum brought this beat to my house? Magazines don’t just randomly appear on kitchen counters, and I certainly never wrote a check for a subscription.

First, I weeded out the fringe suspects.

Grandma and Grandpa: No flowers, no recipes, no woodworking, and no sports in Tiger Beat. Wasn’t the grandparents.

The two-year-old nephew: No Thomas the Tank Engine pictures. He’s out.

Aunt and uncle: No coupons. No lists of baby names. Nope, not them.

Time to look closer to home. Time to look IN the home, as a matter of fact. Four people live in the house, which left three main suspects. There were only three main suspects because one of the residents, me, was not a suspect. Trust me.

The boy: Despite liking music, a staple of Tiger Beat since Monkees made music, and having a proclivity for posters on his bedroom walls, it doesn’t appear to be the boy. Unless Tiger Beat features photos of Prince Fielder and Justin Verlander - you know, DETROIT Tigers - which it undoubtedly does not, then it wasn’t the boy.

The wife: Drawing on my best memories of the magazine, which are admittedly limited, I felt this issue of Tiger Beat was severely lacking in pictures of Ralph Macchio, Kirk Cameron, and Patrick Swayze. True, the posters could have already been nipped out, but had that been the case, I’d be waking up to Daniel-san, Mike Seaver, and Johnny Castle on my bedroom walls. The wife was no longer a suspect.

That left the thirteen-year-old daughter as the only logical option.

By process of elimination, the culprit, I believe, had been exposed, and it didn’t take much sleuthing for suspicions to be confirmed. There was music coming from her room, paper trimmings and scissors on the floor, and walls covered with photos of floppy-haired boys.

It’s a classic example of the more things change, the more they stay the same. Regardless of the decade, certain truths remain evident: Whether it’s Monkees or New Kids or One Direction, groups of shaggy-headed boys will make music, and hoards of girls will obsess over them. And cover their walls with the boys’ photos.

It doesn’t matter if these young men are singing about why Sleepy Jean needs to cheer up (Oh, what can it mean?) or explaining how she’s got the right stuff (Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh), or wondering how everyone else in the room can see it (You don’t know-oh-oh, you don’t know you’re beau-ti-ful), the chorus will echo throughout the house ad nauseam. Moms will reminisce about their past obsessions. Dads will cover their ears and complain about the noise. 

And everyone can’t help but sing along.

Little Kids and Nicknames

There are approximately 4 million children born each year in the United States. That means there are around 8 million two- and three-year-olds. Eight million kids learning to speak ... with varying results. My own kids are no exception. With all these little ones toddling around, trying to successfully speak what they've been hearing their whole lives, I know there must be other kids with names like Beef and Maymay and Bubba and Teetee.

And I'd love to hear about them. See more at the bottom of my latest column. (You can see the original here until it is archived.)

I have a son named Beef.

No, this is not the name on his birth certificate, Beef not being what our grandparents might call "a strong, Christian name." Beef is not a traditional family name, nor is it a tribute to a close friend, favorite literary character or dinner selection.

It's all because of his sister, Maymay, who, needless to say, has her own name issues.

Once, when I was changing Ethan's diaper, Megan, then 3, tried talking to him using his first name. "Eefy," she said, with concerted effort.

Now, the boy was in that 9 to 12 month range, when eating has been mastered but moving is still a challenge, so he wasn't yet burning off the calories he was taking in. Both legs had rolls at his ankles, mid-calf, knee, mid-thigh and hip.

"Eefy?" I asked. "Look at those legs. Beefy is more like it."

A nickname was born. Sure, I might have added the B, but the girl's "Eefy" was the inspiration. Ten years later and the boy is writing Beef on his school papers and talks about going to court to make it legal. His own mother calls him Eef. He's the Beefer, Beefy, Beef, Eef, and, occasionally, Eefy-Beefy.

And he's built like a butter knife's profile. It's like calling the short kid Stretch.

Three years later, the Beefer returned the favor. Megan was one syllable too many. "May!" he'd yell.

"Me-gan," we'd model slowly.

"May!" he'd copy.

It was a process. We worked at it. He created variations -- May, Maymay, Maynuh, Maynuhmay -- but in the end Megan turned out to be a name he could handle. Today she prefers Meg, but there's still ample family evidence of her nickname's history.

Last weekend we went to Bubba's house. Bubba, or Caleb more accurately, was known as Cabub for a while, thanks to the Beefer's linguistically challenged fourth year of life. Naturally, Cabub evolved into Bubba.

Bubba and Beefy: Two skinny kids who have names that sound like the hosts of "Deep Fried Favorites" on the Food Network.

Eef and May have a 2-year-old cousin. Alex is still contemplating Meg's name, but he's got Ethan's. His version, anyway. "Eeeeeeee!" Alex says when he sees him. He can even communicate full sentences using only Ethan's name. "E?" translates to "Have you seen Ethan? I have come to his house and am eager to play that game where we run recklessly throughout the living quarters."

My wife was, at one point, nicknamed Gaga by her younger sister. How Jennifer became Gaga is a mystery, but it did lead to a quote still oft repeated by her family during card games. "Puck 'em, Gaga! Puck 'em!" (Yeah, the whole family is thankful that nickname didn't stick.)

Let's face facts: Grown-ups aren't very creative. Our best nicknaming seems to revolve around the letter Y -- either adding one or cutting one. Is this the best we can do? Call the guy named Smith, Smitty? Change Murphy to Murph?

Kids create the best nicknames when they try pronouncing real names correctly. So now I want to know your family's best kid-created nicknames. Email me your stories at KidNicknames@gmail.com, and if the feedback is good, I'll write a follow-up article.

Don't wait! Get on that, Teetee.

The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate

I had been hearing about The One and Only Ivan for a while and planned to buy the book sooner than later, when one Monday morning it simply walked into my classroom. "Mr. Wilhorn, I want to show you this book. It is, like, the best book I have ever read," said Claire, the student holding Ivan out to me. "You need to read it." I'm not sure how I responded, but I know I was excited to finally have the book. Then Claire said, "Oh, by the way. Since you always have us write journal entries about the books we read, YOU have to write a journal entry to me."

So I did. And Claire and her mom graciously allowed me to use our journal conversation as a review of The One and Only Ivan.

Dear Miss Claire,

Thank you for loaning me The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate. I had been wanting to read it ever since seeing people on Twitter recommend it, so I was pleasantly surprised when it suddenly appeared in the classroom.

Ivan is a silverback gorilla. That means he a grown-up gorilla, and the silver or grey on his back makes him a leader in his family. The problem is that he’s the only gorilla living at the Exit 8 Big Top Mall and Video Arcade. His family includes his dearest friends, Stella, an elephant, Bob, a stray dog who claims to be homeless by choice, and Ruby, a baby elephant recently added to the Big Top Mall.

Ivan is quiet, calm, and peaceful. He says that the picture of him on the billboard that shows him angry is wrong. “Anger is precious,” he says. Anger is used by a silverback to maintain order and protect his troop, but Ivan says, “Here in my domain, there is no one to protect.”

Deep down you can see that Ivan is still a noble and protective silverback gorilla, but I think being in the cage for so long - 27 years! - has made him forget. He says he has a bad memory, but when he tells Ruby a goodnight story, he shows that he can remember things from his past. He tells about his sister, Tag, and others in his family.

Ivan is a man (or gorilla) of his word. He promises to take care of Ruby, to protect her even though he thought he had no one to protect, and without giving too much away, Ivan is able to protect her, even though he is stuck in his cage.

Finally, Ivan is a talented artist. When he lived in the jungle he painted with mud, but now he uses crayons, markers, and paints to make pictures that Mack sells in the mall. Most of the time people don’t understand what he has drawn, but they like that he draws anyway. But his greatest creation, a giant painting, makes a huuuuge difference in the lives of Stella, Ruby, Bob, and others.

Thanks for loaning me the book, and I look forward to your reply.

Sincerely,

Mr. Wilhorn

Dear Mr.W,

I am glad you have been noticing the little things about Ivan. And I’m glad you are enjoying the book. But what is Ruby feeling at this point? Does she feel scared or sad? If yes, what happened and why? Oh, and make sure to watch what happens with Stella in the book.

Sincerely, Your Dear Student,

Claire


Dear Miss Claire,

I think Ruby is one of the smartest characters in the book. When she tells about how she got captured, she realizes that just because bad humans captured her, not all humans are bad. She even said that before a bunch of humans try to help them. It's like she knew there were good people who might help them. She is sad and misses her family, but she is happy that she has Ivan, Stella, and Bob - her new family.

I was not too surprised at what happened with Stella. There were some clues along the way. But I was very impressed - incredibly impressed - with how Ivan takes care of things.

Thank you for your response.

Sincerely,

Mr. Wilhorn

Defeating Dad

Now that the weather is swinging towards summer, we're not in the basement quite as much as in winter. But the games are ongoing, and the lesson I'm quickly learning (or the lesson the boy is teaching me) is changing: Get used to it, Dad.

Here's my latest column on defeating Dad which appeared today's local newspaper. 

Last night, the boy beat me.

Finally.

Now I'm not saying I enjoyed losing, but my streak was approaching rare company -- Wooden's UCLA Bruins, the '72 Dolphins, DiMaggio's 56 -- and frankly, the pressure was building.

To be sure, I have registered an official protest with the commissioner's office, but so far the boss (aka Mom) has refused to issue a ruling on the contentious contest. So as of now the boy's table tennis victory stands, and his full-out, arms raised celebratory sprint throughout the entire house was not in vain.

Let's recap. The score stood 20-17 with the old man in the lead when my return clipped the top of the net but luckily trickled over to the boy's side. Game over.

"Nope!" he yelled, waving his arms and paddle. "That's my point 'cause it hit the net."

"What? You know that only applies on a serve."

"Whatever. My serve. 18-20." And he promptly skipped his next serve past my unprepared, weak side.

"Hold on. This game is already over," I insisted. "Why are we continuing?"

His only response? "19-20," and another quick serve that I returned straight into the net.

"20-20. Your serve." Smug. Real smug.

"This game is over! I already won, and you know it," I argued.

"Dad, please." He looked at me as if I'd just suggested tofu at a tailgate. "Serve."

Two serves later -- one short into the net, one long onto the floor -- and the boy was off and running. Up the stairs, down the hall, circle in the bedroom, back down the hall, around the kitchen table, and down the stairs back to where he found me waiting.

"I already won," I reminded him. "Why are you making a scene?"

"Dad, admit it. I. Beat. You."

"OK. Rematch?"

"Nah, I think you've had enough for today." And he turned and floated out of the room.

Defeating Dad ranks with game seven victories, the 12 seed beating the five, walk-off home runs, and knocking the defending champs out of the playoffs. The stakes might not be as high, but then again, hit a walk-off home run and the pitcher doesn't have to tuck you in bed later. When a boy beats Dad, the vanquished still has to live with the victor.

This quest to give Pops a paddling encourages creative strategies. Rules change. "I get five extra armies this turn," a boy might say mid-game in Risk. Do-overs are called. "That's not an out even though you caught it because I wasn't ready. Do-over." How can the boy see the pitch, swing the bat, hit the ball and not be ready? Doesn't make sense.

Doesn't matter.

What boy doesn't arm wrestle his dad? And what boy doesn't end up standing, two-handed, elbows aloft, and jumping to put his full weight on Dad's arm?

As I watched the boy disappear, I remembered a recent game of darts in Grandpa's basement. My father, my son and me. And I had the lead. A big lead. A don't-hand-me-three-darts-'cause-I'll-only-need-one sort of lead, when ... well, you know what happened.

I folded and Grandpa beat us both.

You know what? Maybe I'll withdraw my official protest with the league commissioner.

Just this once.

Wonder by R. J. Palacio

Much has been said and written about Wonder by R. J. Palacio during its short existence on bookstore and library shelves. Even before its February release, one could see and hear the buzz grow on Twitter and the Internet as advanced reader copies found their way to teachers and librarians. At first I was hesitant to buy into the hype since kids don't generally care about hype.

Finally I decided to find out what all hubbub was about and got my own copy. After reading it in one sitting, I knew. Wonder is one of those books that stays with you long after finishing. After reading it once I changed my lesson plans to make it our class's next read aloud book. I immediately started rereading. And I started writing.

I'm not going to write a full synopsis here. That's readily available elsewhere. But it doesn't matter. You don't need one. Wonder is a book you should read. Wonder is a book you should share. Wonder is a book you should discuss. Parents, children, teachers, students, everyone.

As I planned our class read aloud, I wanted to help students see and hear what the main character, August, shared with readers. Most sections of the book are introduced by song lyrics, and songs play a role on several key scenes. Auggie also uses numerous Star Wars references, and face it, you don't know who Mon Mothma or Lobot are off the top of your head either, just like I didn't. So I created a visual guide for Wonder to share with my class and posted it on my class blog.

These resources are what I started writing as I prepared for our read aloud. Here are links to each section.

Wonder - Part One: August

Wonder - Pages 1-26
Wonder - Pages 27-50
Wonder - Pages 51-80

Wonder - Part Two: Via
Wonder - Pages 81-117

Wonder - Part Three: Summer
Wonder - Pages 118-132

Wonder - Part Four: Jack
Wonder - Pages 133-157
Wonder - Pages 158-185

Wonder - Part Five: Justin
Wonder - Pages 186-204

Wonder - Part Six: August
Wonder - Pages 205-234

Wonder - Part Seven: Miranda
Wonder - Pages 235-248

Wonder - Part Eight: August
Wonder - Pages 248-274
Wonder - Pages 275-293
Wonder - Pages 294-315, The End

Culminating Activity

A Family Recipe & Its Miraculous Effects

All delicious, but none miraculous.

This column appeared yesterday in the local newspaper. If anyone is interested, the recipe is available, but it will cost you the same as the Colonel's chicken recipe or Coca-Cola's secret recipe. And I don't know where the bakers in the family keep it hidden, so no guarantees.


There is a homemade bread recipe handed down from generation to generation on my wife’s side of the family that works miracles.

Now I personally have not experienced the miraculous due to this mysterious mixture of wondrous ingredients, but three generations of women in the family swear by it. The ingredients include wheat flour, All-Bran, raisins, and flax.


Mix, bake, cool, slice. Eat. 

Then wait. And not very long from what I’m told.

The family calls it Go Bread.

My daughter is mortified that people would even consider talking about the physical need for Go Bread, let alone openly sharing stories around the table, say, while enjoying dessert. That there are people in the world – in her family! – that find Go Bread a healthy, enjoyable, and sometimes necessary part of their balanced breakfast, well it’s too much for her teenage brain to handle. Someone mentions Go Bread, and she’s off to her bedroom, texting. Probably telling her friends about her sick family.

The boy just thinks it’s funny. There are certain topics that cause ten-year-old boys to commence giggling. Some include smells. Others include noises. Most include the bathroom. Go Bread, or the miraculous effects due to its consumption, touches on all three. If Grandma says, “You know, I gave the recipe for Go Bread to your Aunt Mildred,” the ladies around the table, all concerned, ask how she’s feeling.

The boy? Hysterics.

Me? I always remain a silent observer in these conversations, content to listen but not qualified to participate. And even though I have never enjoyed this delectable delight, I understand the consequences of consumption. More importantly, I understand the consequences of overconsumption.

My nephew, a toddler, lacks an adult’s knowledge and experience. As a result, he tends to understand fewer things, yet what he does know he comprehends with greater intensity. Some related concepts of which he has a thorough grasp include: Hungry. Food. Eat. Yum. More.

And Grandma. He understands Grandma too.

So when the lad got hungry at his grandparents’ house, he went straight to Grandma who cut him a healthy slice of a healthy snack. Go Bread. Which he ate. And enjoyed.

And demanded, “More!”

Which he got.

(Now, despite my best journalistic efforts, the story here gets a bit murky. How much Go Bread did he eat? Was it a complete loaf to start? Did anyone else share the Go Bread? There are numerous opinions, but from what I can gather, the youngster ate anywhere from “a slice or two” to “the whole stupid loaf,” depending on the source.)

They say Go Bread performs the miraculous. What it did to my nephew, however, defies the laws of physics. Four changed diapers. Four sets of new clothes. Four baths. All in one morning.

And his mother, a member of the third generation to swear by Go Bread, now swears AT Go Bread.

More on Hope Was Here at the Nerdy Book Club

About a year and a half ago I published a series of posts about my class's experience reading Hope Was Here by Joan Bauer and how some additional research on the students' part let to an interesting discovery. It also led us to an email correspondence with the author herself. 

Yesterday the Nerdy Book Club blog published a shorter version of the same story. Thanks to everyone from the Nerdy Book Club who visited Help Readers Love Reading after seeing my post on the blog. And if you frequently visit this site but haven't visited the Nerdy Book Club yet, here's your chance. Go see what the nerdy (and by "nerdy" I mean "totally cool") readers are up to.

(Here's a link to the first post from the original series of posts on this site.)

Cupid's Arrows Stick, Flight Paths Questionable

"I pity the fool who won't be my valentine!"

This column originally ran yesterday, February 13 (which explains the "tomorrow" that kicks of the first paragraph). With a title that includes Cupid and an image that includes Mr. T., what more introduction is needed? You can view the original column here.

Tomorrow, elementary school classrooms across the country will be filled with children delivering valentines. Handmade boxes will be filled with cards featuring favorite musicians, cartoon characters, and even toys, each declaring undying love and a desire to be someone's valentine. Classrooms transformed to mail rooms, all for love. 

And candy.

Everyone gets valentines. Class lists are sent home to ensure there is no child left behind when tallying the Valentine's Day booty. Isn't that why the Star Wars and Thomas the Tank Engine and Hello Kitty valentines come in packages of 32? One for each classmate, a couple extra for mistakes and misspellings, and one for the teacher.

One might think that with cookie cutter valentines and class lists, the romance would be taken out of Valentine's Day. The "mine" in "Be Mine," after all, is singular possessive. No candy hearts read "Be Ours." How can 24 children all agree to be 24 other children's valentine? Doesn't this reduce Valentine's Day to Halloween Lite? There's just as much candy, but no costumes, black cats or pumpkins, and the farthest you have to walk is across the classroom.

Really, where's the love?

Ah, but don't underestimate children. Even in a world of boxed valentines with canned catchphrases, children can find a way to be creative.

Just don't expect them to execute their plans perfectly.

If memory serves, it was fourth grade. On the night before Valentine's Day, the living room floor was covered with A-Team valentines ("I pity the fool who won't be my valentine!"). Time was up. No more procrastinating. Tired and frustrated, my heart not in it, I quickly wrote my name underneath "from" on the back of each card. Having lost my class list, I got 23 classmates' names on 23 envelopes, then spent 10 minutes wondering who was missing.

Realizing I was the 24th (thanks, Mom), I commenced stuffing the envelopes. At the last minute, creativity struck. Cupid handed me an arrow. On one valentine, below my name, I carefully printed, "I like you."

Cookie cutter valentines, take THAT!

I rushed through stuffing the envelopes, both thrilled and terrified at so openly wearing my fragile 9-year-old emotions on my sleeve. What would happen? What will she think? What will she do?

What have I done?

During the class party, I dutifully handed out my valentines. Twenty-three envelopes, including the one holding my confession, were placed into 23 artistically decorated pink and red shoeboxes.

Then I sat. Waited. Opened valentines. Munched M&Ms.

And secretly stole glances. Would she look my way? Would she smile? Worse, would she frown? Would she call me gross?

Nothing. Nary a glance.

Surely this proclamation would produce some reaction. What could have happened?

Then a new feeling began prickling the hairs on my neck. Excitement had led to confusion, now replaced by the sense that someone was watching me. Had to be. Even fourth-graders know that feeling. Who could it be?

Another classmate, three rows over and one seat up, in the opposite direction. Why was she sneaking glances at me?

The wrong envelope! Somehow I had either mislabeled, mispackaged, or misdelivered my missive.

The experience taught several lessons: Valentines aren't binding contracts. Fourth-graders and romance don't mix. Cupid's arrows stick even if they don't fly true.

And only send one valentine.

I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen

Sometimes - no, oftentimes - the simplest books end up being the best books. Here is a 100% complete summary of I Want My Hat Back. Eh-hem...

1. Bear cannot find his hat.
2. Bear asks various woodland creatures, “Have you seen my hat?”
3. The various woodland creatures respond to the contrary.
4. Bear realizes that he has, indeed, seen his hat.
5. Bear gets his hat back.

Simple, yes, but it is in the pictures and the dialogue that I Want My Hat Back becomes a book worthy of repeated readings. Children will realize they have seen Bear’s hat before he does. One of the woodland creatures, Rabbit, appears to be wearing it. Oddly enough, it is Rabbit who is most insistent that he has not seen Bear’s hat. Rabbit insists, “I would not steal a hat” and demands, “Don’t ask me any more questions.” Eventually Bear realizes where his missing hat is, and the climactic confrontation and subsequent reunification of Bear and hat is where the fun starts.

Children will ask all sorts of questions and have all sorts of opinions. Did Rabbit lie? Did Rabbit steal the hat? Is Bear dumb or is Bear just not very observant? Is Rabbit suspicious? Is Bear suspicious? Is the resolution fair? When I read it with second graders, the reading took five minutes but the discussion was spirited, vocal, hotly debated, and twenty minutes long.

I don’t want to give away the end of the book, but it’s awesome. It’s clever, surprising, funny, and refreshingly different from what one might expect from a typical children’s book. Here’s a 100% complete summary of what you should do. Eh-hem...

1. Get the book.
2. Read the book slowly.
3. Look carefully at the illustrations.
4. Draw conclusions with each page, especially near the end.
5. When you think you've got it - about 3 pages from the end - pat yourself on the back and smile at the clever surprise ending.
6. Then turn the page and realize that you really never saw it coming.
7. Repeat. With friends.

Parental Superpowers

When my son asked me about having superpowers, he meant it as a "What if...?" question. Instead it lead my brain down a rabbit trail of thoughts, starting with the belief that I was already in possession of numerous superpowers, all parenting related, and ending with the realization that there is truly only one superhero in our household. And it lead to my latest column. (Read it on the newspaper's website here.)

“If you could choose two superpowers, what would they be?” my son wondered one gray winter morning over breakfast, as if the day’s agenda included re-creating his parents as comic book characters.

“Just two?” I asked.

“Yeah, just two.”

“That’s a tough one. Let’s see, superpowers...” I tried to buy time (superpower: stalling), but kids sometimes use questions only to introduce their own answers. This was such a time. I needn’t have delayed.

“I already know mine,” he interrupted. “Invisibility and teleportation.”

“No, you don’t want invisibility,” I told him. “Invisibility would only get you in trouble.” (superpower: wisdom)

“But what about teleportation? Then I could, like, just show up at school. I wouldn’t have to walk.”

“Seems wasted when you live less than a block away.” (superpower: observation)

“Yeah, well...” he muttered, shrugged, and slurped his last three Cheerios, a whole grain ellipsis punctuating his unfinished thought.

Still not prepared with a response, I deferred to my daughter. (superpower: diversion) “Hey, Meg,” I yelled down the hall to my no-longer-sleeping yet still-in-bed oldest. “If you could choose two superpowers, what would they be?”

“Invisibility and mind reading.”

“Mind reading? People already SAY plenty of nasty things. Why would you want to know everything they’re NOT saying?” (superpower: persuasion)

“Good point,” she conceded.

“Besides, you’re already invisible.” I added. “You haven’t appeared at breakfast all week.” (superpower: humor)

“You guys are freaks.” This was my wife’s unexpected contribution, added with a slight roll of her eyes and accentuated by the thwack of her coffee cup on the kitchen table. “He just throws out ‘superpowers’ during breakfast, and suddenly you three are engaged in full-on conversation. Is there some standardized list of superpowers that I’m not aware of?”

“Well there’s flying and super strength and speed. Those are pretty standard,” I inform her. (superpower: analysis)

“Yeah, like Mr. Incredible and Dash - pshooo!” the boy says, providing his own sound effects.

“I meant real superheroes like Superman and Spiderman and the Flash.” (superpower: suspension of disbelief)

“Real superheroes?” my wife asks.

“But you have to watch out for guys like Batman,” I continue. (superpower: avoidance) “Batman was just a normal guy with cool gadgets. No super-strength or anything.” (superpower: rambling)

The boy nodded his agreement.

“You know what?” Jennifer placed both hands on the table and stood slowly. “You all just keep making stuff up, all your invisi-portation and tele-bility.”

“Invisibility and teleportation?”

“Whatever. Here’s the deal.” She paused and glared at each of us in succession. “I can clear the table without you noticing.” We looked down and sure enough, our cereal bowls were missing. “I can get dishes, laundry, and bathrooms clean faster than you can get them dirty. I can organize transportation for dance, soccer, swim, and after-school meetings and - legally, mind you - get everyone there on time. I pick up the clutter and lay down the law. So you can talk about superpowers all you want.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

(superpower: Mom)

The Pint Man by Steve Rushin

This site is generally home to children’s book recommendations, but occasionally a grown-up book comes along that deserves a mention. I have been a fan of Steve Rushin’s writing since his early days with Sports Illustrated and was curious to see if his style would translate to a novel.

The answer, without a doubt, is yes. The Pint Man is funny and clever and filled with Rushin-isms. And while the book is not for children, it is most definitely a book for certain grown-ups, including people who:

• have spent regular time at a local watering hole, preferably an Irish establishment.
• have ever admired a public restroom.
• enjoy a pint of Guinness. Or Harp. Or Fosters.
• think it’s funny that a bar has booths made from salvaged church pews, above which hangs a sign quoting Mark 2:16. “When the scribes and Pharisees saw him, they said unto his disciples, How is it that he eateth and drinketh with publicans and sinners?”
• also think it’s funny that the bar’s resident bulldogs (one, sadly, deceased) are named Edith and Drinketh.
• are personally offended by the general public’s inability to correctly use apostrophes.
• keep random reference books on hand to settle trivial disputes.
• spend time on Wednesday afternoons watching the English Premier League or wish their schedule would allow it.
• think pollen and swollen ought to rhyme, like main character Rodney, and “not just because they look alike. They were partners in crime. One led to the other.”
• appreciate wordplay, the sort employed by Carnac the Magnificent. (Answer: “Sis boom bah.” Question: “What is the sound made when sheep explode?”)
• keep every book they read.
• find connections between life and literature.

The list could continue, but we’ll stop there. Suffice it to say, if you see yourself (or another reader) in the above criteria - if not perfectly, at least partially - then Rodney’s tale of losing employment, nourishing a relationship, sheltering an injured friend, and pursuing a refreshing beverage just might be for you.

New Post at the Nerdy Book Club

Thank you to the Nerdy Book Club blog for giving me the opportunity to share about junior high study hall, pink eye, and other such reading topics in my post The Non-Reading Reader. It's an honor to be included.

To everyone who makes their way to Help Readers Love Reading from the Nerdy Book Club post, thanks for visiting. I hope you return soon, and it would be great to hear from you. To regular readers of HRLR who came here to read a new post, please visit The Nerdy Book Club to see how pink eye helped me earn my NBC membership.

Thanks, everyone, for visiting, reading, and doing what you do to help readers love reading.

The Chronicles of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg

After The Mysteries of Harris Burdick poked and prodded the imaginations of countless readers over the years, now comes The Chronicles of Harris Burdick. Fourteen award winning authors were invited to create their own stories based on the original images. (Or, if you take Lemony Snicket’s introduction to heart, each author has now come forward with one of Mr. Burdick’s original stories, placed in their care for various reasons. This theory, however, has been denied, dismissed, or avoided by all of the included authors.) Each image is reprinted at the beginning of its corresponding story, and each story is as imaginative and mysterious and adventurous and horrifying as the personal stories created by readers over the past twenty-seven years.

Except for one thing. These stories, while incredible and wonderfully written, are personal only to their authors. Each story comes from one author’s imagination, not from the imagination of the readers. This reader was let down by the stories, not by the stories themselves, but by the fact that they didn’t match my stories.

Also, I always imagined Harris Burdick’s pictures and captions to be from carefully worded picture books, not longer works of fiction. I pictured fourteen books for the fourteen images, with each page of each book dominated by another incredible Burdick image and similarly carrying a one or two line caption to advance the narrative. In my mind when the mysteries Harris Burdick were eventually solved and released to the public, they would include picture upon picture, not paragraph upon paragraph.

Now that I’ve got my personal feelings out there, let me be fair. The Chronicles of Harris Burdick is a wonderful collection of stories based on equally wonderful images. These short stories have the potential to inspire more stories from readers - additional chapters and sequels and more detailed accounts of what’s Under the Rug or who else must play The Harp or what happened to all of The Seven Chairs.

But beside all that, readers of the original book who have wondered and imagined for all these years will certainly want to read how other readers imagined these stories. Sure, they are all award winning authors, but they were all readers and wonderers first. Just like us.